Members of Polite Society
by Grant Stockwell
Summary: After messing things up for the LLC one too many times, Orendi is forced to take etiquette lessons.
1. Prelude to Propriety

Despite the fact that her misfit band of Rogues had played their part in the fall of Rendain and the salvation of Solus, Reyna couldn't say that she had expected to keep in close contact with anyone from the other factions once the job was done, outside of being called upon to help push back the occasional Varelsi invasion. So she was surprised when she received a message from the LLC, and hoped that whatever tenuous peace and alliances had been formed weren't about to go out the window. Why else would they be contacting her unless they were trying to recruit more bodies for proverbial crap that was about to hit the proverbial fan? She opened the message, looked at it, and groaned inwardly. It consisted of a single photo: a short, four armed young woman wearing orange and black clothing, a large hat, and a mask over her mouth. It looked like she was being held in some sort of prison cell. Beneath the photo was a single sentence caption: "Is this yours?"

How Orendi had found her way back onto an LLC ship was anyone's guess. The Chaos Witch's motive was, presumably, to cause whatever damage she could while on board. Orendi had cost the LLC quite a lot of money in the past, and Reyna knew that they wouldn't put up with much more. She messaged back a simple: "Yes."

A diamond blinked up on her map.

"Please rendezvous with the Hemsworth Arcship at this location in twenty minutes."

* * *

Reyna was greeted at the bay of the Arcship by a familiar metal face. She would have said he didn't look pleased to see her, but then he never looked pleased to see anyone.

"Hello Marquis," she said, "how much damage has she done?"

The well-dressed robot was silent for a moment, then turned around and began marching up the gangway. "Follow me, please."

Reyna entered the ship and took a look around.

"Oh...s**t."

There were scorch marks everywhere, and expensive looking parts of expensive looking instruments were strewn across the floor. Messages like "Orendi ftw!" and "Fiery pain 4 evry1" were scrawled every few feet along the walls.

"That witch was loose on this ship for over half an hour before we managed to corral her. Look at this place! It's disgusting! It looks like the underside of a bridge after a hobo rampage!"

Reyna let Marquis continue on his tirade. Maybe allowing him to let off some steam would be a good thing in the long run, though she couldn't say she'd ever seen him get anywhere close to showing a pleasant emotion.

"You realize that this ship has been in Miss Phoebe's family for generations now, don't you? You'd better hope that she's feeling much more forgiving than I am!"

Marquis led her down several long corridors and onto an elevator, where they traveled downwards toward the ship's brig. Orendi was being held in a cell at the back of the room, and Reyna heard her voice before she saw her.

"...naw naw, man. See, ya got a great look going on here, but you're just so cheerful, ya know? Ya gotta get a bit growly."

As they got closer, they saw that Orendi was talking to the guard outside of her cell, who just so happened to be ISIC.

"I appreciate the advice, but I think my passive aggressive programming will be very useful in establishing a false sense of security before I kill Kleese-"

"What did you just say?" Marquis interrupted.

ISIC's blue skull spun around to face them.

"Oh, I just said, uh, 'chill Kleese.' Yeah I was talking about how I'm going to chill with him later. Because we're such good friends now. Since he reprogrammed me and all that. A ha. Ha."

"Reyna!" Orendi shouted. "I'm glad you're here! I spent all my money on food before trying to hijack Phoebe's favourite spaceship, so I don't really have the cash to pay bail!"

"Hmph," Marquis huffed. "Well, I'll leave you here to discuss your defense strategy. Or whatever. I will inform Miss Phoebe of your arrival."

With Marquis gone, Reyna was left alone with two of the most disturbing persons she had ever met. ISIC cleared his throat, or made a sound that was meant to simulate that action since he didn't actually have a throat, and tried to act casual. Reyna sighed and focused on Orendi.

"Having fun?"

"Well, I was," Orendi said, "but it's kind of hard to burn stuff when you're locked in a cage. You're going to get me out of here, right Captain?"

"Oh, I doubt it!" ISIC chimed in, his voice as inappropriately cheerful as ever. "Word is that Phoebe is really pissed off! I'm surprised she let you live this long. I feel bad for Marquis having to deal with her, honestly. Makes me happy to be down here with you meatbags."

As if on cue, Marquis' voice came over the ship's intercom.

"Captain Reyna, Miss Phoebe is ready to see you. Her quarters are marked on your map."

"Oooooooohh" said Orendi and ISIC in unison.

"Hey shut up!" Reyna called back to them as she started to leave. "It's not like it's my head that's on the chopping block here."

The walk up to meet Phoebe was uneventful. Some of the crew recognized her and stared, but most just turned their noses up and looked away in typical LLC fashion. Admittedly the thought of all of these stuck-up people freaking out as Orendi wrecked their stuff suddenly didn't seem to bother Reyna quite as much, and it hadn't really bothered her in the first place. But even the Rogues (minus Orendi, apparently) knew that keeping interfactional incidents to a minimum was the best policy with the Varelsi still creeping around Solus on a consistent basis, so Reyna contented herself with merely flipping off some of the more annoying crew members.

Eventually Reyna found herself in a quieter part of the ship, approaching a door framed in gold trimmings. She pushed the small button beside the door, and it opened with the sound of a chime.

"I assume that's you, Reyna?" a posh voice said. "Please come in."

Reyna entered the room to find Phoebe behind a workbench, bent over one of her telekinetically controlled rapiers. The other four were hung up on the wall, Reyna noticed, alongside some elaborate portraits of Phoebe's ancestors.

"Upgrades?" Reyna asked.

"Repairs," Phoebe replied. "Courtesy of the friend of yours currently residing in the brig."

Oh. Great.

Phoebe turned her attention away from the sword for a moment and reached into a drawer beside her, producing a tablet-like device.

"I'd like you to have a look at this Reyna. It's a comprehensive calculation of the amount of damage inflicted on the LLC by Orendi since we and the Eldrid discovered and rescued her race."

Reyna took the tablet, scrolling through the long list on the screen until she reached the final total.

"Wow. That's, um, a lot of digits."

"Indeed it is," Phoebe continued. "Normally an incident like today would have justified the use of lethal force according to LLC regulations. However the execution of one of the 'heroes' who helped to save Solus would be a rather terrible PR move. Even if it was that menacing little witch."

"So you've called me up here to warn me to keep a tighter leash on Orendi? She's not exactly the easiest person to keep track of, let alone control."

"I'm afraid we've gone beyond the point of warnings. Even if we won't kill her, some sort of action needs to be taken to ensure that she will no longer pose a threat to LLC assets. I called you here for, well let's call it a brainstorming session. If anyone can get into Orendi's head, it's you. You're the one person she's ever shown anything resembling respect."

For some reason this last thought greatly disturbed Reyna, so she decided not to think about it. Still, Orendi was a friend, and Reyna wasn't about to start abandoning her companions now. Phoebe was looking at her expectantly, as if she were supposed to have an immediate answer. Now all Reyna could think about was punching Phoebe in her smug face.

And then suddenly, all of Reyna's thoughts coalesced into one incredible idea. Her uncovered eye widened, but she was quick to tamp down her sudden excitement. If this idea were to go through, she would need to propose it in a certain, very careful manner.

"All right Phoebe, I've got an idea," Reyna began. "You think that Orendi needs a little bit of discipline and self-control. What if I were to get her to agree to sign up for some etiquette lessons?"

"Hmmm. It might be a good first step. That is, if you can find a teacher in their right mind willing to try it."

"How about yourself?"

"What? No! Me? What? No! Never! What?" Phoebe stammered.

"Of course you! Think about it! Who else is more refined than you? Who could possibly do a better job of bringing polite society to the unwashed masses? You're practically the queen of the Last Light Consortium!"

"Well, I mean obviously. But, uh..."

Reyna was playing to Phoebe's ego, softening her up for the killing blow. The carrot on a stick that no self respecting member of the LLC could ever resist.

"And we'd pay you for it too, of course. Say, three hundred credits per session?" It was a steep price, but honestly it would be worth it just for the entertainment value. "And then at the end, we can host a joint dinner party. You and anyone you'd like to bring, me and the rest of the Rogues. And hell, if Orendi gets through the entire meal without casting a shadowfire pillar on someone, I'll personally throw in a thousand credit bonus."

"It's a deal!" Phoebe shouted, losing her composure for a moment. She settled down and straightened her dress. "See if you can get the witch to agree to it and I'll have Marquis draw up the paperwork."

Reyna gave a mocking curtsy and left the room. Phoebe pressed a small button on her desk. "Marquis, I need to see you. I just made the biggest mistake of my life."


	2. Lesson One: Table For Two

"THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! AN OUTRAGE! YOU HEAR ME?"

Reyna had expected Orendi to throw a fit about this whole deal. What she hadn't quite expected was for it to go on for a full five minutes uninterrupted, partially because she didn't think Orendi's attention span could possibly last that long. Even ISIC was reaching a breaking point.

"Did you know that a*****e Kleese gave me a string of code that simulates migraines? I'll give you one guess why I'm bringing this up now."

"Orendi, shut up!" As much as Reyna thought Phoebe was a classist, entitled little brat, she had to admit that Orendi had gone too far this time."This is the deal I had to make to keep Phoebe and Marquis from using your severed head as a bowling ball!"

"YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!"

"No I can't make you." Reyna conceded. This was going to be the hard part. "But you have a choice to make. Either you go through with this and take the etiquette lessons, or we drop you off on a planet of your choice and you leave the Rogues for good."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" The tantrum suddenly stopped as Orendi finally thought about who she was talking to. "I-I mean you wouldn't do that. Would you, boss?"

"Don't you get it? After years of fighting each other, the factions managed to come together to defend Solus against a bigger threat. But that threat is still out there." Reyna said, putting on her best 'inspiring leader' voice. "Do you not understand what you did here today? You launched an attack on one of our allies. This could have caused a major breakdown with the LLC that we can't afford right now."

"I CAN'T CHANGE WHAT I AM!" Orendi shouted. "Well, I mean I can because it's kind of my thing being a varimorph and all. BUT I CAN'T CHANGE _WHO_ I AM!"

"That's not what I'm asking you to do," Reyna said. "But I need to know you can at least make an effort here. That you're not just a loose cannon about to go off and blow us all to hell."

For the first time in what was probably the entirety of her life, Orendi stayed silent for a while.

"Look, I'll give you a few more minutes to decide. I'll need an answer-"

"I'll do it, OK?" Orendi said quietly. "If it means I get to stay with the Rogues, I'll do it."

Reyna smiled. It looked like there may be some hope after all. "I don't expect you to change who you are Orendi. I just need to know that we can have some faith in you."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get mushy about this. I've already had to clean vomit out of my hat once today."

Well, there was another thing Reyna was better off not thinking about.

"Uh, one question though," Orendi continued. "What does 'etiquette' mean?"

* * *

"Please initial after reading every subsection, and sign the bottom of the page."

The agreement Orendi was signing was surprisingly short for an LLC contract. Marquis and Phoebe had spent the last two hours dreaming up every conceivable way this arrangement could cause monetary, physical, and/or mental damage before they realized that writing all of these things down in the contract would probably just give the witch ideas.

Orendi did as she was instructed and pushed the paper back across the table to Phoebe, who looked at it as if it were radioactive.

"Well...I suppose that makes things official. Come on, we'll head over to the dining hall to begin the first lesson."

Phoebe got up from behind the desk. Orendi followed.

"Since your final test is going to be a dinner party, priority number one will have to be table manners. You will be joining me for dinner tonight where we can work on them."

"Oh, well great. I'm starving!" Orendi said. "What're we having?"

"We will be dining on the finest filet mignon that the LLC has to offer, served with a side garden salad made with the freshest greens from my own hydroponic-"

"Ugh, forget that stuff. I'm on a strict red-meat only diet here."

Phoebe opened the door to the dining hall, then jumped aside as a cackling Orendi burst through it.

"AHAHAHAHAHA! THE KILLING BEGINS NOW, AND YOU-" Orendi stopped and looked around, apparently confused. She turned to look at a wide-eyed Phoebe. "Uh, where's the cow?"

"Wha-What?"

"The cow! I thought you said we were going to be having some fancy steak thing! How can we do that if there's no cow around to kill?"

"We're not going to kill the cow ourselves! That's what the butcher is for!"

"You mean someone else gets all the fun of ripping out the guts? Man this 'etiquette' thing SUCKS!"

Phoebe made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snort of disgust. "My word, you are a disgusting little thing aren't you? Next you'll be telling me you want to cook it yourself using your fiery shades or whatever it is you call it."

"Shadowfire! And of course I want to! But I suppose you have some sort of guy who does THAT for you too, don't you?"

"Yes, it's called a chef. And I'll have you know Frederick is the most talented chef in the Solus system!"

Orendi started growling, and Phoebe tensed up, preparing her rapiers. But the varimorph took a deep breath and seemed to calm down a bit.

"You're lucky I like being a Rogue more than I hate you," she said. "So what _do_ I get to do?"

Phoebe, somewhat taken aback by the fact that Orendi had shown a modicum of self-control, relaxed and let the rapiers rest behind her.

"Just...take a seat at the table please," she instructed.

Orendi pulled a chair out and hopped up onto it. Phoebe took the seat across from her and began to look her up and down.

"What? What are you doing? Why are you looking at me like that? I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE LOOK AT ME!"

"Calm down!" Phoebe said. "I'm just thinking that you're going to need some proper formal attire for the party. We'll stop by my tailor tomorrow and have something made up for you. But we'll start with the basics for now. Rule one of dining etiquette is that there are to be no hats at the table. Erm, and no masks, either."

Orendi grumbled and removed her hat, revealing her stringy black hair. She then pulled down the mask that hid her mouth, revealing wide rows of disturbingly sharp teeth. Her mad grin, glowing red eyeball, and dark facial markings came together to form a visage that had terrified more than a few of her enemies on the battlefield.

Phoebe shuddered. "Uh, on second thought, why don't you just do you?"

"I can't eat with my mask on, ya know," Orendi pointed out. "Don't worry, I ain't so bad once you get used to me. Just ask the rest of the Rogues."

Considering that one of the Rogues was a freakish defective clone soldier and another was attached at the hip to a giant stone djinn, Phoebe wasn't entirely convinced that they were the best judges of what normal people could or couldn't get used to.

"Uh, OK then." Phoebe said.

Orendi burst out cackling. "See, we're already getting along great! What could possibly go wrong with this dinner party?"

Phoebe looked down and muttered under her breath. "Oh, I can still think of a few things..."

She looked back up to see that Orendi had noticed the array of forks and knives that had been set out in front of her. She was currently holding up a butter knife and examining it closely.

"Hey, I think this one needs to be sharpened! I don't think it could even get through your skin!"

"That one's not really for cutting." Phoebe explained. "Since you've brought it up, I will explain the correct usage of each utensil you see in front you once the meal arrives. Normally I would have a layout of forty-eight forks and twenty knives, as is proper for formal meals, but since you're fairly new to all of this, I thought we would start with a simple dozen."

Orendi just gave her a blank stare.

"Speaking of the meal," Phoebe continued, "waiter, we're ready!"

A set of double doors at the side of the room led to the kitchen. At Phoebe's command, they burst open and a shower of pyrotechnics lit up the entrance. Out walked an incredibly large man, nearly bursting out of the tuxedo he had attempted to squeeze himself into. He had large gold cybernetic arms and wore a colourful luchador wrestling mask, along with a championship belt around his waist.

"El Dragoooooooooooooooooooon!" the man cried.

"You got El Dragón to be our waiter for this fancy pants dinner?" Orendi asked. "And I'm the one everyone thinks is a lunatic?"

"Well, yes, for tonight anyway." Phoebe said. "It was on short notice and he was available."

"I also do birthday parties, weddings, and store grand openings! Anywhere a champion is needed, El Dragón will be there! So long as the cheque clears, of course."

Orendi continued to stare at Phoebe incredulously.

"Oh all right I admit it," Phoebe said. "I thought there was a good chance this would be breaking down into chaos by now and that it would be best to have some extra muscle on my side just in case."

El Dragón gave a short laugh. "Yes, my muscles are certainly very desirable to the ladies!"

"Oh GOD no!" Phoebe sputtered. "That is not what I meant! Just, go get the food, please."

El Dragón returned to the kitchen, and Phoebe noticed that Orendi had just been staring at her for the past minute or so, which was more than slightly unnerving.

"What?" she asked.

"What about Marquis?" asked Orendi. "I thought he was supposed to be your robo-butler."

"He hasn't really been that for some time now." Phoebe said. "He's been a bit different ever since he lost his connection to the Magna Carta. Doesn't like to be subservient anymore, went a little crazy and all that. It happens every once in a while, just look at ISIC. I'm just glad we could stay friends and that Marquis didn't immediately start trying to kill me. I would have hated to have had to put him down."

Though neither would admit it, the two women had surprised each other. Orendi hadn't thought that Phoebe could care about anyone but herself, and Phoebe hadn't thought that Orendi could string a coherent conversation together. Phoebe in particular didn't like that she had just spilled some rather introspective details. Luckily for her, El Dragón suddenly burst through the doors again, holding two plates of hot filet mignon. The luchador trotted over to the table and put a plate down in front of each of them.

"Bone appetite, ladies!" he said.

"That's not-" Phoebe began, but El Dragón was already away, ripping off his tuxedo shirt and saying something about appearance fees.

"Ooooh, you left the bones in?" said Orendi. "That's just the way I like it!"

A sense of irritation was rising back up in Phoebe, causing her patience to wear thin again. Any goodwill she might have been feeling gradually evaporated.

"Oh, can we just get this over with, please! Now, the seventh fork from your right is the steak fork, in between the dessert fork and the salad fork. Use it to hold the meat in place while you gently slice a small piece off with your steak knife. That's the third from your left..."


	3. Lesson Two: The Excellence of Elocution

Dinner hadn't gone completely smoothly. To her credit, Orendi had done her best to listen to Phoebe's explanations of proper dinner etiquette. The only problem was the rules just seemed to keep coming and coming, and obeying them went against the very nature of being a varimorph. It was around the time that Phoebe chastised her for having her elbows resting on the table ("I HAVE FOUR OF THEM AND THEY GET TIRED! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO?!") that Orendi finally snapped. She went to town on her piece of meat, stabbing it with every utensil she could get her hands on at least once, and usually multiple times. The filet mignon, prepared by the system's greatest chef, was nothing more than a ground pile of meat spread across her plate by the end of the lesson. Still, she had lasted longer than expected and managed to keep the destruction to her own end of the table, so Phoebe chalked it up as a win.

Another win was waking up to see that the Hemsworth Arcship hadn't been destroyed overnight. It was an understatement to say that Phoebe was nervous about having Orendi spending the night on her ship. She had vowed to sleep with one eye open, which didn't take too much of an effort for her. Phoebe had been a light sleeper ever since she had first spotted the tall, shadowy figures of Varelsi invaders outside her window when she was eight years old. But there had been no alarms, no call from Marquis, and apparently no trouble. Dealing with the witch's rampage, then being roped into giving her etiquette lessons and having dinner with her all within the same day had made her very tired, so she appreciated the good night's sleep.

Phoebe rolled over in her bed, planning on snoozing for a minute or thirty, but her eyes shot open as she noticed the sound of streaming water coming from her private bathroom. The shower was on. She kicked off her sheets, got out of bed, and hurried to her closet to pull her robe on over her nightgown. She approached the door to the bathroom, and as she got closer she heard another sound that stopped her dead in her tracks. It was unmistakably Orendi's voice, but she was...singing?

"A fire, that broils through your guts,  
I open you up to see,  
Death and kisses, warm and...uh...bloody?  
Ugh, no that's terrible. Too obvious."

Phoebe knocked on the door. "What are you doing in there?"

The flow of water stopped and there was a scuffling sound. For a moment Phoebe wondered how much damage Orendi's claw-like toenails could do to the porcelain floor of her bathtub.

"Taking a shower. Duh."

"Oh. I never really thought you were one for, well, bathing. And what were you going on about with all that singing?"

The door to the bathroom slammed open and a towel clad Orendi launched herself across the threshold. She latched onto Phoebe, gripping her shoulders so she could look her straight in the eyes.

"FORGET YOU HEARD THAT! It's unfinished! All this etiquette stuff has thrown me off my game! It feels like some hack writer with no talent for free verse was putting words in my mouth!"

Phoebe pushed Orendi off and gave her a quizzical look. "You write free verse poetry?"

Orendi nodded. "Yeah, it's better than those types that always have some sort of dumb rule you have to follow. My good stuff is stored in my private terminal on the Nova for me alone, and my bad stuff gets forgotten. So like I said: FORGET IT! Don't make me chew out all your memory neurons! BECAUSE I WILL DO THAT!"

"OK, jeez," Phoebe said. "I get it. I've scrapped plenty of inventions and projects that didn't work out. Not everything can be a masterpiece. And I'm sure you've written some..."she paused, searching for an appropriate adjective,"... _interesting_ poems."

"Oh. Well, maybe I'll let you know next time I have a good one. An artist can always use some constructive criticism," Orendi said, no longer meeting Phoebe's eyes.

"OK! Well then, I'm actually quite glad the topic of word-smithing came up!" Phoebe said, trying to change the topic as quickly as she could to avoid finding out what Orendi might consider good poetry. "It actually relates to today's first lesson!"

"What?"

Phoebe nodded. "I mentioned last night that we would be going to see my tailor today. Sandra is a very high class artisan, and I expect you to treat her with respect. So I will be teaching you how to speak eloquently and tastefully."

"What's wrong with the way I talk? I talk real good!" Orendi complained.

"You tend to speak rather loudly. And most people don't appreciate being threatened with having parts of their brains eaten. I'm going to shower now. You get dressed and meet me in my workshop in forty-five minutes."

Orendi moved towards the closet, grumbling something along the lines of "I didn't say I would _eat_ them." Phoebe rolled her eyes and started preparing for the day.

* * *

A little more than forty-five minutes later, Orendi stood across from Phoebe in her workshop, arms folded over her chest. Phoebe held her main rapier in one hand and a large book in the other. Her other four rapiers floated behind her, waiting patiently for any instructions.

"We're going to be practicing with some lines from one of my favourite books: _Sport of Senate Seats_." Phoebe said. "It's about a young politician who leads a bloodless revolution by gaining public support for her progressive lawmaking. It's a really exceptional work of fantasy!"

"Bloodless? Sounds boring." Orendi commented.

"Well, it has some great examples of formal dialogue, so it's the perfect thing for you to practice with." said Phoebe. "Let's start with some polite greetings. Now, repeat after me: 'Good morning, Mister-'"

"Good morning to you too, meat sacks!" a robotic voice interrupted. ISIC trundled his way into the workshop, knocking over a lamp in the process.

Phoebe let the book fall to her side. "What do you want ISIC? I'm busy training Orendi for our dinner party."

"Actually, the dinner party was what I wanted to talk about. I just wanted to know if my buddy Kleese will be there and if he has any food allergies. I wouldn't want any sort of poison to fall into his food." He leaned closer to Orendi. "Wink."

"Oh please ISIC, could you be any more transparent? Marquis told me about the plot he overheard you talking about yesterday, everyone knows you still hate Kleese, and you just said "wink" out loud," Phoebe pointed out.

"Well, I don't have any eyelids to actually wink with," ISIC tried to defend himself.

"Not to mention poison is for wusses," Orendi piped up. "You can do better than that can't you?"

"And anyway, I haven't invited Kleese. The less people witness this inevitable disaster of a party the less my reputation will have to suffer." Phoebe concluded.

"That is true. I've run some calculations and simulations through my AI, and the odds of your party ending in some sort of chaos magic induced violence are indeed astonishingly close to one hundred percent." ISIC said, then he paused for a moment. "Which would mean that anyone who _does_ attend will be putting themselves in certain danger. Hey! Look at the time. I'd better let you two get back to work." ISIC turned around and quickly made his way back towards the door.

"ISIC! Don't you even think about doing whatever it is you're thinking about doing!" Phoebe called after him. The rogue Magnus pretended not to hear her.

"Poison, sheesh," Orendi said after ISIC was out of auditory-input-shot. "And to think I once respected that guy as a killing machine. I mean, what's even the point if you can't feel the tearing of the-"

"Alright alright, that's enough!" One of Phoebe's rapiers floated over behind Orendi and poked her in the small of the back.

"Hey!"

"We have to focus! The appointment with Sandra is scheduled for just a few hours from now, so you have to learn this quickly. And stop slouching!" Another poke from the rapier.

"Stop that!" Orendi swatted at the sword, but stood up a little bit straighter.

"That's better. Now, let's try this again. Repeat after me: 'Good morning Mister Donnington. How was your meeting with the ambassador?'"

Orendi looked at her feet. "GoodmorningMisterDonnington. Howwasyourmeetingwiththeambassador?" she muttered the words as quickly as possible. The sword poked her in the back again.

"Look the person you are speaking to in the eyes. And speak clearly!" Phoebe instructed.

"Oh COME ON!" Orendi shouted. "This is about to make me retch! I can be polite without talking like an idiot from one of your boring high-society politics books!"

"Oh really?" said Phoebe. "Very well then, how would you plan to address Sandra when you meet her?"

Orendi raised one of her hands in a sort of wave. She probably thought it was a friendly gesture, but the eyeball-like turret blinking and looking from side to side in the center of her palm gave it a much more creepy feeling.

"Hi there Sandra! Don't worry, I have no plans to rip out your guts. Right now, anyway." Orendi folded her arms, and somehow Phoebe could tell she was smirking under her mask. "See? Polite and all natural!"

"I think we'll be sticking with the book." Phoebe said dryly. "Who knows? You might learn some new vocabulary to use in your poems."

To Phoebe's surprise, Orendi actually seemed to consider this notion.

"OK. Fine. Give me another sentence to practice. But this time give me one with a word that rhymes with 'viscera.'"


	4. L3: Tinkerer Tailor Soldier Spymistress

Sandra operated out of a mid-size shop on Bliss, where she was regularly contracted by the UPR as a designer of uniforms for the wide variety of body shapes that their soldiers possessed. A small shuttle from the arcship brought Phoebe and Orendi down moonside, and they rushed through the cold air and along the snow covered path from the landing site to the tailor's shop. Inside the shop was warm, and the colourful fabrics and various pieces of armour that lined the walls gave the place a very cozy feel overall. A number of plush chairs gave it a look similar to that of a comfortable hotel lobby. Phoebe took special care to wipe her feet on the mat inside the door (which was somewhat unnecessary since she had glided most of the way there thanks to her hovering shoes), but Orendi walked straight into the centre of the room and shook herself off like a wet dog.

"Man I hate this place," Orendi said. She took her hat off and a large clump of snow fell from it and landed in a pile on the floor.

"It's certainly not the most comfortable place in the system," Phoebe conceded. "But Sandra keeps up a nice little home and business, so please try not to ruin anything while you're here."

"Yeah, yeah," Orendi said, plopping her hat back down on her head. "Where is this broad, anyway?"

Phoebe floated forward to a small counter near the back of the room. She rang a small bell that sat on the counter top, and a woman's head poked out from behind a curtain in a large booth to their left.

"I'll be with you in just a moment Miss Hemsworth!" Sandra said cheerily. "I'm just putting the finishing touches on another appointment."

"Take your time Sandra," Phoebe said.

From another booth beside the first a muscular, purple-skinned man carrying an assault rifle walked out.

"Foxtrot?" Orendi said. "What are you doing here?"

"Probably the same thing you are. I'm getting ready for that big dinner party at Phoebe's. Hi, by the way," Whiskey Foxtrot acknowledged Phoebe, who gave him an awkward wave. "I've got to look good for Miss Deande. Hey, maybe you guys can give me a feminine opinion. How do I look?"

Whiskey was shirtless, wearing a bandolier over his shoulder and his damaged helmet on his head.

"Um, isn't that how you always dress?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah, except now I have a bowtie!" he said, pointing to his neck, which did indeed have a bowtie around it. "Makes me look nice and presentable right?"

"It covers up your neck scars!" Orendi complained. "Chicks dig scars! And necks! I'm always asking for more necks, and no one ever brings them to me!"

"Yeah, I...I think that may just be you Orendi." Foxtrot said.

"Look, I'm just sayin' that if you want to get a piece of Deande's hot ass-"

"Hey! Remember what we discussed about your language this morning." Phoebe interrupted.

Orendi glared at Phoebe before putting on a faux high class accent. "... a _portion_ of her _exquisite posterior..._ "

Phoebe let out a small "hmmph."

"...then you have to show her everything you've got. Be like your best friend Orendi and NEVER HOLD BACK!"

" _I_ happen to think you look fantastic, my dear," a smooth voice interjected. Deande, sporting a new blue coat with white trim, had entered from the fitting room alongside Sandra and gave Whiskey Foxtrot a small smile.

"Ah!" Sandra exclaimed. She was a tall and skinny older woman, but maintained a look of practiced elegance and beauty. She wore an elaborate gold and white dress and expertly applied makeup. "This must be the famous Orendi."

"I believe 'infamous' would be a more accurate term." Deande said.

Orendi was about to retort by asking how Deande would like to spend her next thousand years of life with her fingers bitten off, but Sandra ended up being the first to speak.

"Well, if you ask me, all of the Battleborn are worthy of being called heroes. No matter how...eccentric they may be. Now, if you'd come with me Orendi, we'll start taking your measurements."

One of Phoebe's rapiers poked Orendi in the back, and the chaos witch straightened up and began to speak in the dull monotone of someone who has been memorizing a very specific speech all morning.

"Thank you. Sandra. I am very...pleased to be...your latest client." She turned to look at Phoebe, who was nodding her head vigorously and giving a thumbs up.

Orendi and Sandra disappeared behind the curtain of one of the booths, and Phoebe slumped over with a sigh.

Whiskey Foxtrot coughed. "Um, so you're really going through with this whole thing then?"

Phoebe shrugged. "I signed the contract. I have to go through with it."

"Well, she seemed polite enough to the tailor," Deande remarked. "So I suppose it's going well?"

Phoebe took a seat on one of the provided chairs. "She's trying, I'll give her that. But I doubt that any of it is going to really stick. I can't get through a single lesson without her throwing food around or talking about intestines. I'm sure I'll be paying Sandra for damages by the end of the afternoon."

"Well, if anyone can pull this off, I'm sure it's you." Deande said, obviously not believing it. "Anyway, Whiskey and I have to get back to Ghalt and Nova. We'll see you this weekend."

"Yes, see you then." Phoebe started to give a halfhearted wave but stopped suddenly. A cold realization hit her like one of Alani's tidal waves as she remembered what Foxtrot had said about getting ready for the party and looking good for Deande. Her head snapped in his direction.

"Wait! _We?_ This was supposed to be between the LLC and the Rogues. Who said you could invite _her?_ "

"Oh, uh, I just thought it would be OK to invite a date, seeing as Reyna invited Caldarius and all-"

"SHE DID WHAT!?" Phoebe screeched, springing back up out of her seat. Her rapiers perked up, waiting for the chance to impale someone.

"Y-yeah," Foxtrot stuttered. "I mean, not as a date or anything. Caldarius didn't want to go at first. He said there was still too much left to do, even with Rendain gone. I think Reyna finally convinced him it would be a good team building exercise or something..."

"That b***h!" Phoebe shouted. Deande and Foxtrot looked at each other, taken aback by Phoebe's outburst. No one had ever heard her say something so profane.

"She wants to humiliate me in front of Caldarius! Ruin any chance I could have of being taken seriously again! Make me the laughingstock of the Battleborn! Well two can play at this game! I'll show her!"

"What exactly do you plan on doing?" Deande asked.

"I have no idea!" Phoebe said. "But I'm sure I can think of something."

"Yeah, sure." Foxtrot said, nervously nudging Deande and backing slowly towards the exit. "Well, good luck with that. See you at the party."

With that the defective clone and the Jennerit spymistress were gone, and Phoebe was left alone to pace the room and ponder her strategy.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sandra had finished taking Orendi's measurements and was working on her dress by hand as the varimorph sat on a small stool swinging her legs back and forth.

"...so I told Phoebe, 'look, I made you clothes that you can fully augment with all your high tech gadgets, so I'm pretty sure I can handle making a dress with four sleeves,'" Sandra was saying. She glanced over at Orendi, who didn't seem to have been listening to a word of the tailor's small talk.

"You know," Sandra said. "You're an awful lot quieter than your reputation would suggest."

At this Orendi looked up. "Oh, uh, I'm just focusing on something."

"Oh, and what's that?"

"OK. So the only reason I'm doing this whole etiquette thing is because Reyna said she'd kick me out of the Rogues if I didn't at least try it, right?"

"Um, if you say so."

"Soooo...I'll go ahead and try for a little while. I'll put on your fancy dress and use a fork and not talk when my mouth is full. But after that, this party could be a huge opportunity for me!"

Sandra didn't like where this train of thought was headed, but she didn't say anything yet.

"The problem is," Orendi continued, the tone of her voice growing more and more erratic, "that I've already trashed Phoebe's entire ship! That's how I ended up here in the first place! What can I possibly do that's bigger than that? I've gotta give everyone at that party something to really SCREAM ABOUT-!"

"Orendi," Sandra finally interrupted. "Have you ever watched a horror movie that was really scary, even though it doesn't show all the really violent bits?"

"Uh, no." Orendi answered, confused by the apparent non-sequiter. "Any movie without gore pretty much sucks."

"Well, in any case the idea behind it," said Sandra, "is that the viewer's mind fills in the blanks with something far worse than anything the film makers can think of."

"So what?"

"Well, it sounds to me like even your own Captain isn't expecting you to be able to actually pull off a polite dinner party. Everyone already has their own worst case scenario in their mind of what you're going to do. And maybe you _can_ outdo them all, but if you ask me the only way to really guarantee giving everyone a real shock-"

"Would be to actually pull it off..." Orendi finished.

"It's up to you whether you'll actually be capable of it." Sandra said with a shrug, holding up the nearly completed dress. "And it's just my opinion anyway. Here, try this on."

Sandra truly was a master of her work. The dress was nearly perfect during the first fitting, and after a few minor touchups she packed it up and handed it over to Orendi. Phoebe was still fuming in the lobby as they left the fitting booth, and Orendi seemed to once again be deep in thought. As Sandra charged the dress to Phoebe's account and handed her an extra receipt (to be given to Reyna to pay as "expenses" from the lessons), she hoped that the idea she had planted in the witch's head would come to fruition over the last few days before the party. Orendi would get to shock all of Solus by showing self-control for an entire night, Phoebe would prove her abilities as an etiquette teacher, and in the end the Battleborn would be that much closer to true unity. She watched the shuttle take off, carrying the two women back to the Hemsworth Arcship, and smiled to herself. If her little bit of psychology had worked, then nothing could possibly go wrong.


	5. The Dinner Party

Phoebe's eyes were closed, her main sword Addonexus moving rhythmically as it was used as a conductor's baton. There was nothing more relaxing to her than creating a beautiful piece of music with-

"No no no!" she slashed the air in front of her and the Minion Robotics Orchestra ceased their playing. "Flutes, you came in an eighth of a second too early! And the brass section! Which one of you forgot to tune your horn again? I'm looking at you, Louie!"

A number of the robot musicians let out some confused electronic burbles.

"You know, Miss" Marquis said from behind her. "I think you may be letting the pressure of tonight's social gathering get to you. The Rogues are a bunch of dirty hobos and we have nothing to prove to them."

Phoebe sighed. "I know we don't Marquis. I'm just disappointed in myself. I let Reyna goad me into this contract when I should have just demanded some sort of punishment from Orendi. Now I'm about to be embarassed in front of the Rogues and Deande and...and Caldarius. And don't think they won't tell everyone else about whatever disaster happens tonight."

"Well you don't have to worry too much. I'll be here to help you quell the situation."

"Oh, Marquis!" Phoebe said, surprised. "Did you re-engage your empathy protocols?"

"It was necessary to do so in order to fully understand the situation," Marquis explained. "You have been rather distant the past few days. Not yourself."

"Having to try to work with a borderline insane witch every day can do that you, Marquis. It's funny though, I never did pass my own etiquette classes, did I?"

"You were too busy taking apart my poor Hoodini."

"And yet here I am now, trying to be the teacher," Phoebe said. "I just know Orendi is planning something awful for this evening. Ever since we picked up that dress from Sandra she's been acting a little too keen during our lessons."

"I believe she is still in the guest room. Perhaps if you go to see her you can find out exactly what's on her mind," Marquis suggested. "Ugh, that's a horrible thought."

"I suppose it's worth a shot," Phoebe said. She started towards the exit, but stopped and turned back to her ex-butler, biting her lip. "And thanks, Marquis. It's good to have you on my side."

The titanium dandy tipped his hat and gave her a wink.

Phoebe thought about Orendi's recent behaviour as she made her way through the ship's winding corridors. After the visit to the tailor's shop, Orendi had shown a sudden interest in all the details of etiquette. Her tantrums had stopped, at least during the lessons, and she had even asked a few questions about her technique once or twice. It was all very suspicious.

Phoebe reached the door of the guest room and knocked. There was no answer, but she could hear Orendi giggling inside. She opened the door to find her sitting in front of the vanity, staring into the mirror and poking herself in her red eyeball. She noticed Phoebe in the reflection and spun around in her chair.

"Hey! Get out of here! I'm not decent!"

"You've never been decent in your life." Phoebe said. "Besides, you wouldn't answer when I knocked. I wanted to go over the plan for the party tonight."

"I was paying attention the last time you told me!" Orendi said. "I wait until all the guests have been welcomed into the hall, then I come down the staircase and show off the new dress, we sit down for dinner, blah blah blah, I get it."

"I meant I want to go over your plan. Don't think I don't know that you're planning to ruin this somehow. You act like, well like yourself from the beginning of this whole arrangement, then suddenly you're a model student right up to the time of the party? Please, you live to make life a living hell for the LLC."

Orendi laughed bitterly, in a way that was far removed from her usual cackling. When she spoke again, it wasn't in her usual high pitched erratic manner either.

"It's always all about you and yours isn't it, princess?" She said coolly. "The LLC and the Eldrid didn't evacuate Etra because they thought it was the right thing to do, did they? A race of 'savages' that could edit their own genetic code at will to mimic other creatures and even machines? That was just too fascinating to pass up. We were just held on some ship for months and never told what was going on. We weren't people to the space elves or to your high class Consortium. We were just things to be examined and experimented with. But then someone let a minion get a bit too close to crazy little Orendi and..."

She raised her hands so that her palms were facing Phoebe. All four of the red turret-eyes turned and stared directly at her. Phoebe gulped audibly.

"Captain Reyna was the first person I met to actually treat me like a person," Orendi continued. "My planet was darkened. Rendain and the Varelsi had taken away my home and my food and everything I knew, and she brought me into the Rogues so that I could fight back. So if Reyna says I have to play along with your stupid party tonight, I will. But whatever happens after that...no promises."

Phoebe had heard Orendi use this tone of voice before, but only in short bursts and usually just to mess with someone's mind. This version of Orendi, however, seemed to be deadly serious.

"Be ready for five-thirty," Phoebe said quickly, before rushing out of the room. She closed the door behind her and leaned back on it, taking a deep breath. Writing weird poetry was one thing, but giving an entire speech like _that_ was another. Could there really be some sort of method to the Chaos Witch's madness? The clock on the wall in Orendi's room, set to the standard time measurements shared by the LLC and UPR, had shown that she still had a few hours to prepare with Marquis before the party. Phoebe settled her nerves and stood up straight. They would have to be ready for anything Orendi could throw at them. Literally and figuratively.

* * *

Phoebe was doing some final dusting when the chime of a doorbell sounded throughout the main hall, causing her to look up with a frown.

"What? They've arrived already? I told everyone to be here no earlier than six o'clock!"

She glided over to the door and opened it. The person standing on the other side was not someone she had been expecting.

"Kleese? What in heaven's name are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the party of course! Far be it from me to pass up a free meal." The old scientist brushed past Phoebe and strode into the hall. "Thanks for the last minute invitation, by the way," he added sarcastically.

"But I didn't invite you-" Phoebe began, before remembering a conversation from a few days earlier. "ISIC! Damn that skull-faced meddler!"

"Well, no matter. You can't get rid of me now. Especially since I brought this to share," Kleese said, handing her a bottle of wine.

"Hey, this has already been opened!" Phoebe exclaimed. "And it's half empty!"

"Well aren't you quite the little pessimist! Some of us would see it as half full!"

"Oh that's rich coming from you." Phoebe pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look Kleese, this is a big misunderstanding. ISIC must have hacked my accounts and sent that message to you. He's hoping you'll get hurt when Orendi inevitably tries to blow us all up or something. You don't even have your Battle Throne here, you'll be helpless!"

"Helpless!" Kleese scoffed. "I don't need any help! I'll show you, I'm staying right here!"

"Ugh, fine, suit yourself. But I warned you!" Phoebe said. "Oh, while we're on the subject, remind me to change my passwords and have Nova run a security check on all my personal information the next time I see her."

Phoebe finished dusting while Kleese puttered around the Main Hall for a few minutes. Marquis, who had been setting the table in the dining room, eventually joined them, and a short time after that the doorbell rang for a second time. Phoebe opened the door to greet Reyna, who was wearing a gold dress jacket and a huge smirk on her face.

"Hey Phoebe! So nice of you to have us! I brought my famous Seven Layer Detritus Dip!" Reyna breezed into the room. "Kleese! Didn't expect to see you here. What a nice surprise!"

"Detritus Dip?" Kleese repeated.

"Named for my home in the Detritus Ring. Every ingredient in this dip comes from there. Granted it makes the name sound slightly unappetizing, but trust me, you'll love it! Oh! I almost forgot." Reyna turned back to Phoebe, who was still standing with the door open. "Pendles says he's sorry, but he won't be able to make it tonight. Apparently there's this guy on Tempest putting together some sort of violent Rendain themed cult. Ghalt wants him taken out, and Pendles couldn't help but jump at the opportunity to offer his services."

The Rogue captain was obviously enjoying herself, and a little too much for Phoebe's liking. Reyna made a show of looking to her left and then to her right.

"So," she asked. "Where's the guest of honour?"

"She will be presented once everyone else arrives," said Phoebe. She felt another presence in the doorway behind her and turned around, coming face-to-face with a teenage girl and a giant stone djinn.

"See Aurox?" said Shayne. "Kleese brought wine and Reyna brought a dip. I told you we should have stopped to pick up a chocolate babka at the bakery."

"WE HAVE NO MONEY!" Aurox growled.

"Well maybe we would if you would stop eating all of our shards." Shayne finally noticed everyone in the hall was staring at them. "Uh, hey guys. What's up?"

"Just come in." Phoebe said. She could already hear the pattering of small feet racing down the corridor outside. A small Aviant in a tuxedo came running around the corner and burst into the room.

"Oh man, I'm not late am I? I didn't mean to hold the party up! I'm sorry!"

"Relax Toby," Reyna said. "You're not even the last one to arrive."

"Oh, good." Toby wiped his brow with his flipper. "I was worried there for a minute."

Phoebe watched as the party guests began striking up conversations with each other. Kleese asked Reyna for more details about the dangerous Jennerit cult, while Toby, Shayne and Aurox tried their best to engage with Marquis, who was visibly cringing at having to associate with the financially destitute. Whiskey Foxtrot and Deande arrived arm in arm, both sporting the new clothes Phoebe had seen them trying on at the tailor's. One last guest was expected to arrive, and Phoebe's heart began to pound as she waited to welcome him.

It was a quarter after six when Caldarius finally showed up. The doorbell rang once more and Phoebe checked her hair and makeup before going to answer it.

"Hello Caldarius." She said. "Do come in won't you?"

The Jennerit warrior, dressed in his signature power suit, seemed hesitant at first, but then relaxed as he saw the rest of the Battleborn mingling in the main hall.

"Can I get you anything? Something to drink?" Phoebe asked, playing hostess to the very best of her abilities.

"I'm fine." Caldarius responded simply.

Reyna spotted him and walked over. "Hey, so you decided to show up after all!"

"Hm. How's the 'team building' going?" Caldarius asked.

"Pretty good so far." Reyna said. She shot a look at Phoebe. "Just waiting for the main event, now."

Phoebe glared back, but made her way towards grand staircase at the other side of the main hall.

"Marquis. If you're ready."

Marquis jumped at the chance to get away from his present company, and began to ascend the stairs in order to fetch the "guest of honour." Meanwhile, Phoebe cleared her throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced. "Mere days ago, I was met with quite the challenge. After a particularly destructive rampage from a rogue Rogue, I was tasked with introducing etiquette and sophistication to a person who had none. A person to whom the words civility and dignity meant nothing! A person who I can best describe as a force of pure irritation driven by an illogical mind!"

Phoebe paused as she noticed several of the Rogues were standing with their arms crossed, looking unimpressed. She quickly calmed herself and cleared her throat again.

"Yes, well. Of course I did not let these circumstances phase me in the least. I tirelessly offered the best instruction possible as my student practiced for hours each day, preparing for this evening. Tonight, she is ready to enter polite society. Please welcome our guest of honour: Orendi!"

Phoebe stepped aside with a low bow and a fake smile, knowing that absolutely no one in the room, including herself, had bought a single word of her speech. She heard a collective gasp of shock and looked up to see her party guests standing in stunned silence, several with their mouths agape. She glanced back over her shoulder, preparing for the worst.

There at the second floor landing stood Orendi, dressed in her newly tailored purple party gown. She had let her hair down and evidently washed and brushed it, as it flowed down to her waist and shined a glossy black. Her back was straight, she wore no hat or mask, and she was smiling brightly. Gently holding the balustrade with her left hands, she gracefully descended the staircase. She reached the bottom and gave a small curtsey to the gathered party before turning to Reyna and gently grasping her hand.

"Captain," Orendi said, her voice a faux upper class imitation. "It is lovely to see you again. I'd been missing your company. Tell me, how have you been this past week?"

Reyna let out a gasping squeak in lieu of a reply.

"Wonderful, I do so enjoy your stories. Oh, but if you'll excuse me, I'm neglecting the other guests. Ah, Toby! You must tell me where you got that lovely tuxedo."

There was a long, awkward silence as Orendi stood looking at the Aviant, waiting for an answer. It was eventually broken by Shayne instead, with a simple:

"What. The. F**k."

Sensing the growing tension, Phoebe rushed in to interfere.

"So!" she called out. "Now that we're all here, shall we move into the dining room for appetizers? I even made sure to have some energy shards prepared for Aurox!"

"THAT WAS VERY CONSIDERATE OF YOU!" Aurox said.

Phoebe gestured towards the dining room. "Marquis, show our guests the way, please."

While her former butler began to lead the group to their seats at the dinner table, Phoebe placed a hand on Orendi's shoulder and held her back.

"Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we?" she questioned.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Orendi said with a devious grin. "Come now Phoebe, the hostess can't be late for her own meal."

Phoebe watched as Orendi followed the rest of the group, then made her own way to the dining room. Marquis was waiting for her there.

"Since the snake didn't show up, we can just let Kleese have his spot," he pointed out.

The statement caused Phoebe to take a good look at all of her guests together. They were taking seats at the table, leaving the chairs at either end reserved for the hostess and her guest of honour.

"There are ten of us here in total," she said, more to herself than to Marquis. "For some strange reason that number is making me very nervous."

"Eleven," Maquis corrected her.

"Hm? Oh, I've always just sort of counted Shayne and Aurox as one unit, myself."

Phoebe's thoughts were interrupted by Kleese's impatient sigh.

"Are you just going to stand there all night? I'm starving!"

They took their spots at the table, where a small bell sat in front of Phoebe. She picked it up and gave it a soft ring, and a line of minions entered the room bearing large serving trays.

"I thought we'd start with a traditional soup and salad," Phoebe explained as the robots set bowls and plates down in front of the diners. "All the greens were grown in my own hydroponic gardens right here on the Hemsworth Arcship, so I do hope you enjoy them."

One of the robots laid a plate in front of Orendi, who deftly picked up her salad fork and began to eat manageable, bite-sized portions. Shayne felt Toby's elbow gently nudging her in the ribs.

"Shayne..."he muttered. "She's...she's using a _fork!_ "

"I know Toby," Shayne said. "It's OK. I'm scared too."

Phoebe noticed the teenager lean over to her other side and whisper something into Reyna's ear. The Rogue captain gave a brief nod of her head.

The meal continued, and as each course was served Phoebe noticed that Orendi was doing tremendously well, using all of her utensils properly and only talking after fully swallowing what she had in her mouth. She also noticed Shayne's expression getting darker and darker, until she was glaring so hard Phoebe thought she might burn a hole through the hull of the ship. Just before dessert was to be served, Orendi picked up a knife and gently tapped the side of her glass to get everyone's attention.

"Everyone, listen up please," she said.

"She, she said _please!_ " Toby yelped.

"I just want to give a heartfelt thanks to Phoebe for being so patient with me over the last week. Without her, none of this would be possible." Orendi raised her glass. "I would like to propose a toast to our most gracious hostess-"

"Oh that is IT!" Shayne shouted, slamming both of her hands down on the table. Even Aurox jumped at the outburst. Shayne whipped her head around to face Phoebe. "What the hell did you do to her!"

"What? I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"Me and Aurox and Orendi are best friends!" Shayne said, ignoring Aurox as he protested his inclusion in that statement. "Orendi would never act like this in a million years! I'll bet you replaced her brain with some sort of robot brain, you monster!"

"There is nothing wrong with robot brains!" Marquis shouted.

"Oh, that's preposterous," Kleese said.

Phoebe nodded. "Thank you, Kleese."

"Reworking Orendi's entire nervous system to function with a mechanical brain would be ridiculously time consuming and expensive! It would be much easier to just get rid of her altogether and build an entire robotic body double."

"NOT HELPING, KLEESE!"

Shayne pointed her finger at Phoebe. "So you admit that you replaced her with some stupid robot!"

Before Phoebe could deny any more of Shayne's accusations, Marquis got up from his seat.

"Miss Phoebe, I have heard enough slander from this unemployable little punk." He lifted his cane/sniper rifle Bindlebane and pointed it across the table, right between Shayne's eyes. "Empathy protocols: _Disengaged!_ "

"Marquis no! Don't!" Phoebe cried out.

A Bindleblast was already charging up while a shocked Shayne stood rooted to her spot. Whiskey Foxtrot, who had been sitting beside Deande at the end of Marquis's side of the table, was the one who made the save. He lifted the table up and knocked it over onto Marquis, throwing off the sniper's aim and causing his shot to fly into the ceiling. Plates crashed to the ground and a pile of food landed directly on Deande's lap. She jumped up and shoved Foxtrot away.

"Ugh, look at what you've done to my new clothes."

"Sorry, uh, sweetheart." Foxtrot said. "I couldn't just let that psycho robot take a shot at one of my friends right in front of me."

"Well, if your 'friends' would stop acting like a bunch of degenerates-"

"Who are you calling degenerate, Jennerit!" Shayne shouted.

Reyna finally got up and moved to try to cool off the tempers that were flaring around the now overturned table.

"Alright, everybody just calm down-"

"Well take some bloody control of your people here!" Kleese interrupted.

Reyna turned on him. "Kleese, shut the hell up or I swear I'll knock your dentures down your throat."

"Pssh. Threats and disorderly conduct! That's the only way you hobos know how to communicate!" Marquis said. "I'll just have to teach you how to behave on an LLC ship the hard way!" This time he pointed his pistol at Reyna, who looked back at him incredulously.

"Get him Aurox!"

Before Marquis could get a single shot off, the cosmic monster had him pinned in place. Shayne was behind them brandishing her boomerangs, but a razor sharp fan embedded itself in the wall just in front of her nose, thrown by Deande. Whiskey Foxtrot shouted and grabbed Deande's arm, but she twisted out of his grip and disappeared, leaving a holo-twin behind her. The fake Deande began attacking Foxtrot with her fans and the soldier fell back. In an instant his gun was in his hands and he was wearing down the twin with bursts of bullets, all the while watching for the real Deande to reappear behind him. Marquis, meanwhile, had finally squirmed his way free of Aurox. The djinn returned to his customary place with Shayne and the two were chasing the Magnus all around the room, Aurox slashing with his claws and Shayne chucking her boomerangs. Toby, stuck without his mech suit, had spotted Kleese stuck without his Battle Throne. The two paired off, engaging in a rather silly looking round of fisticuffs. The dining room had quite quickly become a scene of carnage and destruction.

Phoebe walked backwards into the corner of the room and slumped down the wall into a sitting position. This was it. Her party was ruined and tomorrow morning she would be the laughing stock of the Battleborn. She should have known it would end like this one way or another. Well, to be honest she had known, but she had seen no way to stop the inevitable. She was only broken from her reverie by the sound of loud cackling from beside her.

"Well, I'm glad you're happy," she said, not bothering to look up.

"Of course I'm happy!" Orendi said, her voice back to its usual high pitched tone. "I had no idea the tailor's plan would work this well!"

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "The tailor's plan? You mean Sandra?"

"Yeah," Orendi said. "She told me that to really cause chaos, I had to do something no one could expect! And what would be more unexpected than showing perfect behaviour at this party?"

The two were showered with debris as one of Whiskey Foxtrot's sticky bombs detonated, and Orendi started cackling all over again. Phoebe clenched her fists. Sandra had obviously meant well, but Phoebe made a mental pledge to throttle her anyway. Orendi gave Phoebe a kick to her arm, and it was only then that she looked up and noticed Orendi was holding Addonexus out to her.

"Come on! Quit being such a spoil sport and have a bit of fun! I betcha can't break my shield!"

Phoebe grabbed the hilt of her rapier. If all was lost, she might as well go down swinging. "You're on!"

She jumped up after Orendi, who began to run circles around the room, cackling and shooting bolts of chaos magic. Phoebe chased for a while then stopped, leading her target with the point of her sword. Using her Phasegate, she teleported just in front of Orendi, dazing the witch and finally slowing her down. With pinpoint accuracy Phoebe slashed and stabbed, quickly wearing down Orendi's shield. She was about to break through when-

 _ZAP!_

Orendi's body was suddenly glowing a bright purple, her shield overcharged by Reyna's plasma cannon.

"Hey! No fair!" Phoebe cried, being forced to dodge bolts of chaos magic as well as shots from Reyna's laser pistol. Now it was her own shield that was close to being broken.

There was the roar of jet engines, and Caldarius smashed into the ground behind Phoebe, knocking her assailants across the room and into the far wall.

"Caldarius! You saved me!" Phoebe exclaimed.

"It was two on one," Caldarius said. "I prefer fair fights."

He looked over to where Reyna and Orendi were struggling to get to back to their feet. Phoebe followed his gaze.

"After you." Caldarius said.

Phoebe activated her Phasegate and teleported directly in front of Orendi once more, pinning her to the wall and holding Addonexus up to her throat. At the same time Caldarius had rushed Reyna with a Gravitic Burst, and now held her in place with the threat of his energy blade.

"It's over." Phoebe said. "Give up!"

"Don't do it!" Shayne called out from across the room, as Aurox delivered a huge backhand to Marquis. "Me and Aurox have Marquis on the ropes!"

"Yeah! I'm finally winning something for once!" said Toby, who was currently perched atop Kleese's head with his flippers over the old man's eyes.

"See? You haven't won yet!" Reyna said. "Where did Foxtrot and Deande go?"

Phoebe glanced around the room and quickly noticed an anomaly. The dinner table that had been knocked over to start this whole donnybrook had been set back up. Even the tablecloth was perfect, it's edges perfectly flush with the floor and without a wrinkle on the top. Phoebe let Orendi go and floated over to the table. She grasped the tablecloth with one hand and with a sharp jerk of her wrist yanked it off. There, hiding out underneath and entwined in each others arms, were Deande and Whiskey Foxtrot, their lips locked in a deep kiss. Deande's eyes opened and she quickly broke it off with a nervous laugh.

"Ah ha ha. This is...exactly what it looks like," she said, her cheeks turning a noticeable red.

"Oh get a room you two," said Phoebe. "We have plenty to rent here on the ship. And at quite reasonable prices."

"Uh, excuse me. What about the big fight we were all just in?" Shayne asked.

"Well, it should be obvious to you by now that Orendi is in perfect health and has the same brain she's always had." Phoebe replied. "And we've succeeded in making a colossal mess of my dining room, so why don't we just call it a draw?"

There were murmurs of "yeah" and "sounds good to me" from the other Battleborn. An awkward silence settled in the room as everyone began to relax.

"Hey guys! Heyguysheyguysheyguys!" Orendi yelled. "Does Phoebe know how to throw a party or what!"

"A hot meal and an all out brawl?" Shayne said. "Yeah, I guess this was a lot better than I expected."

"I got to beat up Kleese!" Toby shouted gleefully.

Kleese scoffed. "You got in a lucky shot!"

"Oh yeah?" Toby said. "1v1 me bro! Death Machine vs Battle Throne!"

"I think Kleese has had quite enough," Phoebe interjected. "But I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves."

"I too am glad I came here tonight," Caldarius said. "You are all worthy combatants and I am proud to call you my allies."

"Oh, well, you can 1v1 me anytime Caldarius. Say dinner and some light sparring?" Phoebe asked.

"I might just take you up on that." Caldarius replied.

"Alright guys, it's been fun," said Reyna. "But Ghalt wants all the Rogues back aboard Nova soon for a debriefing on Pendles's mission, so we'd better leave Phoebe to clean up her mess."

"My mess? I...oh whatever."

As her party guests started to file out, saying their goodbyes and congratulating her on the party, Phoebe's mind went back to her conversation with Orendi earlier in the afternoon. She still had a lot of questions, and the events of the party had only compounded them. After promising Reyna she would bring the witch back to Nova first thing in the morning, and after everyone else had left, she took Orendi aside and sat her down at the dinner table.

"Hey, what's the deal? I thought I was finally done with all this etiquette stuff!" Orendi complained.

"You are, I just..." Phoebe tried to pick her words carefully. Finally she just decided to get straight to the point. "I don't understand why you did what you did tonight."

"Whats not to get?" Orendi said. "I acted all nice, fooled everyone into thinking you'd done something crazy, started a big fight-"

"It's not just that. I mean, earlier you were acting eerily calm as you told me all about why you hate the LLC, what they...what _we_ did to you and your people. And then you set everyone off by actually showing your manners at the dinner party, but end everything by complimenting me and saving my reputation? It makes no sense."

Orendi shrugged. "I always thought you were a selfish busybody stuck up slaver. But after spending a whole week with you I learned that you're only some of those things. So you're just...not so bad, okay?"

Phoebe let that sink in for a moment. "You know," she said, "I must say that you actually impressed me a little bit tonight. There's a lot more to you than I thought."

"Yeah well don't think this means I'm not still mad about being abducted! Or that I'll stop burning your stuff!"

"No of course. Let's not get crazy or anything," Phoebe said sarcastically.

"Hey! Who are you calling crazy? And more importantly what happened to that dessert we were supposed to have?"

"Oh, that. It would have gone against your all red meat diet. You wouldn't have wanted any." Phoebe teased.

"It's my cheat day!"

"Oh? Well in that case, there are about a dozen chocolate smoothies waiting in the fridge. Shall we split them?"

"We shall!"

Phoebe escorted Orendi to the kitchen, and as the two stood there slurping up chocolate smoothies until they got sick, she thought about how things had turned out quite differently than what she had expected. Yes, the dinner party had ended in chaos, but it hadn't ruined her. After all, who among Battleborn didn't love a good fight? Hell, she may even have landed a date with Caldarius! Then there was the fact that not only had she and Orendi survived an entire week together, but they had managed to find a smidgeon of mutual respect.

And if something that unlikely could happen, maybe there was still some hope for the universe after all.


End file.
